Against All Odds
by andthenwedownton
Summary: "Let Battle Commence" "Wait- what's that?" Two years after Matthew's death, Mary notices a figure on the street that looks uncannily like Matthew. Is it possible that, against all odds, Matthew is still alive?
1. Chapter 1

_This is my first ever fanfic (apart from middle school Twilight phase- but we don't talk about that). This is the story that was in the back of head throughout all of Season 4. I've been wanting to write it for a long time and since it's "M/M Celebration Day" I figured it was a good time to start. The first chapters are kinda short- but they will get longer the story goes on (and I get better at writing). It will be around 18 chapters (3 of which I have done, and the rest I have planned). Anyway, I've been fangirling over the many fics that the Downton fandom has written for months now, and I've be so flattered if you all read a bit of mine. _

_Everyone in this belongs to Fellows._

**Chapter 1**

July 1923:

"Let battle commence," Mary declared cheerfully.

A second later, her jaw sprung open in shock. "Wait, what's that?"

Mary gapped at a sight beyond Charles shoulder. It couldn't be. There was no point in imagining things. For just a moment, she thought she saw-

"Mary, are you alright?" Charles asked.

"Sorry, Charles," Mary murmured. "I've just become very dizzy. It's probably just from dancing all night. I need to go have a lie down."

"Do you need help?" Charles asked, placing his hand on her arm, she shook it off.

"I'm fine," Mary muttered, her face clearly flustered "I'll be fine. Good bye Charles."

* * *

November 1920:

"Matthew?" Mary whispered in the quiet of the morning. She could tell from his breathing that he was awake.

"Darling?" He whispered back.

"I think," she cooed, smiling, her secret rolling off her lips and becoming theirs, "that I might be pregnant."

"Mary," His face broke out in the widest smile she'd ever seen and he pulled her into a close embrace. "Oh Mary!"

They laid together in silence. She had suspected it for days, but her visit to Dr. Clarkston the day before had confirmed it. Mary didn't want to say a word to Matthew till she knew it was certain, she knew how badly he wanted them to have children. She had known yesterday, but had wanted to wait until morning to tell him. She loved mornings waking up next to Matthew. It reminded her of all the mornings she had woken up drearily by herself and Matthew's presence now made them a joyous occasion.

She looked up at him. "Do you think I'll make a good mother?" She murmured.

"The very best," Matthew told her, brushing the hair from her face.

She thought blissfully of motherhood. She had never found herself particularly maternal, but here in Matthew's arms, she could imagine them having children, a family. She thought of them visiting the nursery together to rock their child and of the child growing older, buying him or her toys and showing them the world. She thought of how lovely it had felt to hold Sibbie in her arms, how just right a baby felt there. Mary felt flooded of joy at her vision of the future. She could do it; she could be a mother.

"I love you so very much," whispered Matthew.

"As I love you," she chimed back.

Matthew pulled her into a kiss. It was over a half an hour until Mary rang for Anna and Matthew went to dress and get breakfast. She thought cheerfully of the things they could do today. The crisp autumn air would be lovely for a walk around the estate before luncheon and maybe a stolen afternoon in the library snuggling if no one stopped by.

However, just as Anna was finishing Mary's hair, Matthew exploded into the room.

"Some ruddy tenant has caused quite a fuss apparently," Matthew growled.

"Has he?" Mary inquired, her distinctive eyebrows raising.

"He's not locked up his animals properly," Matthew told her, running a hand through his hair. "They've escaped all over the property."

"Has he really? What a sight!" Mary laughed. Even Anna was suppressing a giggle. It was hard not to when picturing pigs and sheep trotting around Downton's manicured lawns.

"I was looking forward to spending the morning with you darling," He frowned, "but now it seems I'll have to take care of this incident."

Mary frowned. She was going to miss Matthew, but she knew that the estate was his life's work, just as it was for her father, and her own really.

"It's alright," she said, smiling, "duty calls!"

"Indeed," he sighed, kissing her on the cheek. "See you at luncheon love!"

"Good bye Matthew."

* * *

July 1923:

Mary reached her room in Grantham House. She crumbled onto her bed, unable to catch her breath. What had she seen?

It has looked so much like him. It had to be him. The brown suit she knew he owned, even down to the exact hat he used to wear while traveling. It was probably just another man in his suit walking across the street.

But it has looked so uncannily like Matthew. The golden hair exactly so, his nose and jaw line, just as she remembered them.

It couldn't be. She remembered the funeral: An hour of standing numbly beside the coffin, dripping in sweat under her long black gown in the summer heat. She had watched solemnly, trained to never let others see her emotions. That was until they put his body under the ground. Then, she had broken down into gasping sobs, her cool and calm mask broken. As she watched the coffin hit the bottom of the grave, she thought of how her dearest Matthew was under the ground never to be seen again. Her mother had put a hand on her shoulder, as both a comfort and a reminder. She had gazed the tombstone, looking at the start and end to Matthew's life. And what she thought had been the ends of hers too.

Mary cried quietly, feeling so tiny and alone in her bed in London. She thought of how moments before she felt so free of the depression that had haunted her after Matthew's death. How she was so willing to let Blake and Gillingham fight for her heart. Yet now, it seemed as if it only belonged to Matthew. She felt so stupid that a silly passing man on the street could cause her to turn this way.

But all the same, for a moment, for a tiny precious moment, she had hope.

* * *

November 1920:

Matthew walked out of the house. He didn't know much about farm animals and was wary about how best to amend this situation. He, Tom, Robert and some of the male servants had decided to divide and conquer to see if they could find the animals and round them up. Matthew was secretly hoping that he wouldn't actually find any animals. He wasn't much of a country boy. He tried to pick the direction where there would be least likely to be any animals.

He turned down one plane of the lawn where is seemed no one had gone. He soon found himself in a small copse of trees. He hadn't been to this part of the Estate often. It felt a little bleak and foreign to him.

In the distance he saw a pig scurry by. He frowned at it, knowing that it meant he was to catch the pig. He took off in its direction. He tried to picture Mary beside him, trying to catch the pig. However Mary in the mud and dirt was something he thought he would never see.

He walked across wooded area to get to the pig. All of the sudden, a cloud passed over the sun, and things grew ominously dark. Matthew glanced worriedly around, all of sudden feeling uneasy. He had this bizarre and sickening feeling that he was being watched. He took a few steps towards when-

A rough gloved hand clasped his mouth and pulled his into woods. He felt the cool touch a knife blade against his throat.

I'm going to die, he thought bluntly.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks a million for the reviews and follows that I've already received. This is my first fic, so I'm very pleased that it's already gotten as much of an audience as it does! I apologize in advance that this is the shortest chapter in the whole fic! I wrote it just as I was getting started and it's just 4 short scenes (hopefully they should build some suspense). The next one will be longer than the first two combined, so don't give up yet! I hope to post a chapter every Saturday until the story is done. Also, this story may be a little ridiculous at times- I've tried my best to come up with explanations for everything, which will slowly be revealed throughout the fic- but at times this is going to seem far fetched. Just go with it!_

**Chapter 2**

July 1923

Mary clutched her purchases in her hand as she walked down the London road. She had needed a walk and some shopping to clear her head of the earlier fright she had experienced. She was still reveling a bit in the shock of seeing what could only be Matthew's doppelganger. She decided to brush it off as some sort of waking dream, a result of dancing through the night at Rose's ball. But the fresh air and the thrill of purchasing a new pair of gloves had calmed her a bit.

_Soon I will be back at Downton_, she thought happily. The London Season was glamorous and fun, but Mary wasn't the young socialite she had once been. She was eager to get back to the rest and calm of country life. She sighed contently as she thought of riding old Diamond through the estate, taking in the last of the summer sunshine.

As Mary looked up to cross the street, she gasped. Her whole body went cold. There he was, Matthew.

It surely could be no one else. His blond hair flopped in his face, his gate was just as she remembered it, he was wearing the same suit and hat she'd thought she saw him in before. He looked entirely alive. Not like ghost or some other ghastly creature of a gothic novel, but like a real person.

She looked at him, trying to catch his eye. Her dead husband was walking past her. It had to be him. Why wasn't he looking at her? What was going on?

She suddenly felt short of breath and rather dizzy. She saw an upcoming bench on and quickly crossed to it. She looked back to try to find Matthew but he was gone.

_Had he ever been there at all?_ Thought Mary sadly, a she held back the tears.

November 1920

"Stop, please stop," Matthew said, clearly. He tried to focus on what he needed to say and not on sharp prick of the blade against his neck.

He couldn't turn to look at his captor, for just that movement would result in a slit throat. He could only hope that the person was merciful, though merciful people weren't often ones to hold people up.

"Do you want money? Food? Riches?" Matthew begged, desperately. Nothing mattered to him. He couldn't die. Not now when Mary needed him. Not with a baby on the way. He would offer anything.

The voice snarled back, "Ha- as if! Money and luxury mean nothing for me."

"Please, anything," Matthew gasped, "We can give you anything you need."

"What I want," the voice snapped, "is for the Crawley family to fall."

July 1923

Isobel sat in the tea parlor alone. It was her last day in London and she had wanted to spend a little time on her own. Though she enjoyed socializing with Violet and Martha, she was used to her quiet way of life. A quiet tea by herself, a wander through a bookstore, and perhaps a bit of a walk through a park would be the loveliest way she could think to end her trip to London peacefully.

Isobel poured her tea into the teacup, she picked up a biscuit to nibble on as she waited for it to cool. It was moments like this when she missed Matthew most. He was always so peaceful, the perfect companion for her on an afternoon like this. She often imagined afternoons as they would be if he was still here. She could see this afternoon plainly- Mary inviting Matthew to come shopping with her, but Matthew bowing out, shopping was always a pastime of Mary, but never Matthew. She imagined him agreeing to get tea with Isobel instead. They'd talk about George and about how the season had gone. It would be a simple afternoon, the kind you probably wouldn't think anything of, but now it seemed like the finest way to spend her day.

Just as Isobel was lost in her thoughts about Matthew, she saw him walk past the window. At first she thought, _Oh of course, that is my son here to meet me for tea_. Then she felt a jolt go through her, it was her son! Right there, walking by the tea parlor.

She stood up to look properly through the window. He was across the street by now, walking quickly away. But that wouldn't stop Isobel.

She leapt towards the door and burst into the warm July air. He was nearing the end of the street, about to turn. Isobel didn't think about the logic that her son who had been so very much dead, was walking down the London street, she only knew that she could not let him walk away.

"Matthew," she exclaimed.

He turned and looked at her. Then turned the corner. By the time she reached it, he had disappeared.

November 1920

Matthew did not allow himself to think of the criminal holding him hostage. He didn't try to understand why someone would want the Crawley's to fall. He only thought of Mary. He thought of the baby.

"Please," Matthew told the man, his words coming out in gasps, "I've just found out my wife is pregnant. Please, please, let me live to see my child. You can… you can… kill me off after that. I just want to see my child. I just want to be a father."

The words came out of Matthew's mouth and he realized how very true they were. He had always wanted a child. He knew that his constant asking for kids had bothered Mary at first. Though she was just as keen to conceive, she didn't see the same rush that Matthew had. For Matthew though, fatherhood had always been his dream. He wanted this more than anything. But would it be enough to keep himself alive?

_Thanks for reading, my darlings! I would absolutely love reviews and feedback! :)_**  
**

**Next Week: **1923- Mary and Isobel discuss their encounters with Matthew, 1920- Something horrible happens to Matthew


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you for all the wonderful reviews, follows, and favorites! I continue to be so impressed with how well this story has been received. Please keep it up! I have written through Chapter 5 so far, I'm trying to get ahead now, since I have finals at my university in a few weeks. As promised, this chapter in much longer the ones before it- so enjoy! _

**Chapter 3**

July 1923

Dinner at Grantham House was an awkward affair on their last night. Mary and Isobel, both typically lively conversationalists at family dinner, were both curiously quiet.

Cora was distracted with discussing traveling back to Downton. Rose's mind was still lost in her thoughts of her waltz with Prince the previous evening. Robert's thoughts had turned to the scandal that he couldn't believe that the family had just escaped. Tom was thinking of Sybil and how lovely she would have looked at the ball the night before, and how sad he was that he hadn't been allowed to attend her "coming out" ball. But Violet, free of distraction, was able to pick up on Mary and Isobel's joint silence.

"Mary, dear," Violet pipped up, "Are you quite all right?"

Mary looked up, embarrassed, as if she had been caught. "I'm just a bit tired. I danced all night and I suppose I need some rest. I might actually go up now, so that I am rested before traveling back to Downton tomorrow."

"Do you want me to walk up with you, Mary?" Asked Cora, her face creasing with worry, not realizing how ill her daughter looked until now.

"No, no," Mary murmured. "I'll be quite fine. I just need to go to bed early." She hastily raised to her feet, "Good night, everyone."

* * *

November 1920

"The moment your child is born," the captor said, "I will be there. And I will actually kill you. But you have until then."

Matthew drew a long breath. He was breathing. He was alive, for now at least.

"Don't try to do anything funny to escape your fate. Don't tell anyone. Don't try to find out who I am." The voice commanded.

"Right," Matthew agreed. He would worry about this all later. For now, he was safe. He was safe.

"And just so you don't try to figure out who I am-" The voice said. Before Matthew could react or flinch, he was struck heavily in the head, and collapsed to the ground.

* * *

July 1923

Isobel tried to focus on card game that Violet was having them all play after dinner, but her thoughts were only of Matthew. _Could it have been him?_

She had walked back into tea parlor earlier, all eyes on her. "Sorry," she had told the guests there, "I just thought I saw an old friend." She had rushed through her tea, her appetite now lost. She had decided against the bookshop visit and walk through the park, and had taken a cab right back to Grantham House. She had tried to nap, thinking that it was just because she had gotten such little sleep the night before. But she couldn't sleep either- her thoughts were just Matthew.

Isobel thought of Mary, she had claimed a similar excuse earlier. Of course she could be actually tired, but perhaps, just perhaps, she had experienced the same thing Isobel had.

"I think I'm going to retire early as well," Isobel announced.

"Are you feeling well, Cousin Isobel?" Cora asked.

"Oh yes," she smiled, "I'm just exhausted from Rose's ball last night. I haven't had such fun in ages."

"Have good night then," Rose called, as Isobel bid good night to her relations.

She climbed the stairs and paused before Mary's room. She wasn't exactly sure if it was proper, but she knocked on her door regardless.

"Come in," said Mary.

She was sitting at the window, in an armchair. Mary's hair was down and was wrapped in her dressing gown. A book was folded in her hands, though her eyes were to the window.

Isobel had never seen Mary dressed in anything besides her posh day dresses and lavish evening gowns, her hair always pinned into the latest styles. She had often wondered how someone as soft and gentle as her son could truly love someone as cold and cool as Lady Mary. But seeing Mary looking so simple in her bedclothes, Isobel imagined that this must be the Mary that Matthew loved.

"Isobel," Mary chimed, rising.

"No, sit," Isobel told her, sitting on the bed.

"Is everything alright?" Mary asked, her eyebrows lifting slightly.

"It's just that I saw something today that I thought I should tell you about," Isobel told her.

"Yes," said Mary, her book closing.

"When I was getting tea," Isobel began, then sighed. "I'm afraid I'm going to sound rather silly."

Mary nodded her to continue, "Go on."

"I thought I saw," Isobel whispered, still hesistating.

"Matthew?" Asked Mary, quietly.

"Yes," Isobel exclaimed. "How did you know?"

"It's just-," Mary began. "I'm sure I sound like some sort crazy woman saying this, but I thought I saw him today too."

Then Isobel saw Mary do something, she'd never seen her do before. She broke down crying. Isobel came and sat beside, wrapping her arm around her, rubbing her back.

"I thought it must be lack of sleep, that I was dreaming in real life," Mary sputtered through tears. "But even after I napped, there he was again crossing the street."

"You aren't mad, Mary," Isobel told her, soothingly, though she felt tears prick her eyes as well.

"Are you sure?" Mary whispered, drying her eyes on her.

"I saw him too, didn't I?" Isobel reminded her. She paused, wondering what was real. If Mary had seen him twice, maybe that was something. Or maybe there was just a man in London who looked a lot like Matthew who seemed to be crossing their paths, by chance. She couldn't let Mary who was so practical and wise, who had made such exceptional progress in the last year, spend her days chasing ghosts. Isobel realized she had probably been wrong to come to Mary. She had only filled her with false hope and Mary couldn't afford that.

"I think, though," Isobel pulled back away from Mary, "It will be best for us if we just forget we saw anything. If Matthew is really out there- which we shouldn't believe, we were at his funeral, Mary, we saw him lowered, I even saw the body before-" She broke off momentarily, then steadied her voice. "If there is any chance that Matthew is out there, he will find his way back to you, back to us. But it does no good for us practical women to pretend that a dead man is alive."

"Your right," Mary nodded. "You are so very right."

Mary put a bookmark in her book, closed it, and left if near the windowsill. She stood, "I should probably rest, after all, I danced all night."

"Good night, Mary," Isobel said, "I'm sorry I disturbed you."

"No, at least I feel slightly less crazed," Mary admitted, "but you are right. I've just started to be among the living, I can't go back to the world of the dead. Good night, Isobel."

When Isobel left, Mary lay in bed, tears dampening her pillow and making her face sticky. Of course, she could not live among the dead, but God, it felt so lovely to hope for just a tiny moment.

* * *

November 1920

"Is Matthew back yet?" Mary asked, coming the door to luncheon.

"No," Robert frowned. "I think we gathered up all the animals, but perhaps he is still looking."

"I'm actually a bit worried, myself," Tom said, looking up to Mary at door.

"I think I might forgo luncheon and go look for him," Mary declared. "After all, he'll want someone to eat with him when he returns."

"Do you want me to go with you, Mary?" Tom asked, still feeling a bit awkward calling her Mary.

"If you like," Mary said and Tom rose to join her. Carson brought their jackets and hats.

"Do you know what way he went?" Asked Mary, as they walked into the sunny fall afternoon.

"I think that way," Tom directed and they set off towards a copse of trees on the other side of the estate.

It was a rather awkward walk. Mary and Tom, though securely on the same team, weren't necessarily close friends. They tried to fill the air with light conversation, though Mary's stomach clenched with worry. She brushed it off as a sign of pregnancy, but she very much terrified for what had happened to Matthew.

They she saw the fallen body, just under the copse of trees, where it grew dark. "Oh my god," Mary murmured and began to jog towards Matthew's form. Tom saw her pace and joined her.

They reach Matthew at the same time. "Oh my darling," Mary whimpered softly, kneeling beside him and touching his hair. She felt tears prick her eyes and took a deep breath, but her body was shaking now, and it gave her away.

"It's alright, Mary," Tom told her, taking Matthew's pulse. "He's breathing. He'll be alright."

Mary nodded. Her nervousness and fear were dissipating into her nurse mode. She remembered caring for him the hospital just a few years before. If he was alive, she could handle this. "Darling? Can you hear me?"

Matthew made a humming sound and she took his hand, squeezing it. He squeezed back and slowly opened his eyes. Mary let out a breath of relief.

"How are you feeling?" Tom asked, looking concerned. Mary was glad she had brought Tom with her, after all that had happened with Sybil, he would take an accident like this serious.

"My head," grumbled Matthew, his eyes fluttering shut again.

"Do you can make it back to house?" Tom asked, frowning.

"Just give me a moment," Matthew said slowly. Mary sat beside him and gently stroked his cheek.

* * *

July 1923

Below the window, a blond man watched. He had heard their conversation, the tears. He watched their silhouettes in front of window. His heart had broken as they talked about him. He wanted so badly to go the room and say, "Here I am my darlings, don't cry for me." But seeing him again, he realized, was like seeing a ghost.

He had passed them today on purpose. He wanted to see them, most of all, and see them properly. He had kept an eye on Mary from afar for months now, but he hadn't dared to get a closer look. It wasn't safe for anyone, especially Mary, to know he was alive still. But he had wanted her protected none the less.

He had watched her suitors walk in and out, resisting the urge to run inside and declare that none of them could love her like he did. He had listened to George cry from open windows on warm summer days, fighting the paternal instinct to climb the stairs and cuddle his son in his arms. But the fact remained, he had watched it all from the outside, of course he had to, he had to keep his family safe.

But today, today he was safe. They were safe. They had been for months, but he had been a metaphorical ghost in their world for so so long that lacked the courage to seek out his wife, his mother, his son. What if Mary had fallen in love with another man? What if his mother was happier with a quiet house and soup on trays? Would they even want him back in their lives?

The only thing that kept him going now was the conversation he had with Mary, three years ago now. It was just after Sybil had died, and more than ever he realized what a gift it was to hold Mary in his arms. _I will love you, till the last breath leaves my body_, he had promised. _Oh my darling, me too_, she had promised in return.

And now, hearing this conversation, the way Mary still wept for him, how beautiful she had looked when he passed her today. He knew he needed to start coming back to them. But how?

* * *

_That's all folks! Please leave reviews, I'll love you forever! See you next Saturday!_

**Next Week:** 1920- Matthew must create a plan to stay alive, 1923- Anna receives a late night visitor


	4. Chapter 4

_I'm still in wondrous awe over how lovely you all have been in feedback and follows- please continue, it makes my day! :) Also, I'm not exactly sure what a beta is (someone who reads your story before you post it I think), but yeah I suppose I should probably find one of those cause I'd love feedback before I post each chapter. **So if you are interested in that- PM me**! And a heads up, I have a rough two weeks ahead before my university finishes for the year, so if I am late to update it's cause I'm in midst of papers, presentations, and wrapping up some research! _

* * *

**Chapter 4**

November 1920

"Are you really fine, darling?" Mary asked, sitting on the side of the bed, rubbing Matthew's hand one last time before she put on her black dinner gloves.

"I'm just fine," Matthew said, closing his eyes. "My head just aches."

"Well that will happen when you run into a tree," Mary laughed.

"Yes, indeed," Matthew groaned, running a hand through this hair.

"And you are sure you are fine with me going to down to dinner?" Mary asked, hesitantly.

"Of course darling," He squeezed her now gloved hand, "I know there are guests coming, it wouldn't be right for both of us to miss. And besides, I'm going to try to sleep this headache off, so you'd just have to sit here and watch me sleep."

"I do enjoy watching you sleep," Mary mused, a faint blush glossing her cheeks.

"Just go to dinner," Matthew chuckled.

"Alright," Mary pressed a kiss to his healing head, "I'll tell Carson to have Mrs. Patmore prepare a tray for you."

"That sounds lovely," Matthew smiled at her, before closing his eyes.

Once Mary had left the room, Matthew let out a groan. It was the hardest thing in the world to lie to Mary. He loved her and the idea of being dishonest with her made him feel sick. But this person who was after him, who wished to end the Crawleys, was ruthless. Telling Mary about what happened would put her at risk. He wouldn't let anything hurt her. And besides, he knew that the truth of what happened would worry her to know end. With the beginning of their future child lying inside her, there was no way he could allow Mary to feel any stress.

Running into a tree was a lame excuse Matthew knew, but he was just clumsy enough to pull it off. He claimed he had set off in the direction of a stray pig, wasn't paying attention and ran smack into a tree, knocking himself out. "A bit embarrassing, really?" He had claimed as Mary and Tom helped him to his feet. Collapsing to the ground had bothered his back terribly and he had a rather awkward hobble back to the abbey. He had resigned to spend the rest of the day in bed.

He had taken some tea with Mary earlier and she had lovely read to him for part of the afternoon. But his mind danced with grueling worry. He was going to die. That was what the man had told him. He had only bought himself time. After all he had survived in the war, the way he had over come being paralyzed, and the way he was lucky enough to escape catching the Spanish Flu- he was still doomed to an early death. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to Mary. It wasn't fair to the child. He wanted so badly to stay alive for them.

What could he do? Matthew tried to think calmly. He had nine months to construct a plan, to figure out anything he could to escape death. He closed his eyes. _What could he do? _He could disappear. However he couldn't just run away, the murder would surely follow him, find his whereabouts. The pain of Matthew running away would surely hurt Mary to no end; it would be a rejection of her and the baby. Simply going missing wasn't an option._ But what if he took that what step farther? What if he was already dead before the murderer came for him?_

* * *

July 1923

The summer air was still. All of the upstairs lights had gone out, Anna had watched them all flicker out one by one. Mary's had been last to turn off, her dark silhouette gracing her window frame until late. Anna had momentarily fretted that Mary might be ill, but finally, the light had gone off and Anna breathed a sigh of relief.

It was the last night in London and she wished to have a few moment of peace outside. She wanted to reflect on everything that had happened in the past two years. On the things she had seen last summer when she was in London. It was the thing she had never spoken about it to them- not to Mary, or John, or Mrs. Hughes. She couldn't.

There had been a scant conversation once in a hallway with Tom. They were passing each other and she pulled him into an empty room and told him about what she had seen. She knew that he knew of the circumstances. "That's good," Tom smiled, "that means he'll be coming home soon." But that had been months ago. Anna had thought that after it had happened, he would return at once, to Mary, to George. They needed him. But he hadn't.

Maybe he hadn't wanted to spoil Rose's season. Having the future Earl of Grantham rise from the dead would over shadow Rose's coming out. Maybe he had wanted to be sure that the horrible man was really dead, after all Matthew had faked his death, couldn't someone else? Maybe he was afraid- how would Mary react to having him return. Anna had wondered about that too. Would she be angry? Elated? Mary had worked her hardest to rebuild her life without Matthew. Would she crumple now?

"Anna," a voice whispered from the darkness. She jumped, yet she wasn't unsurprised to hear him, perhaps it was cause she had just been thinking of him moments before. It was the family's last night in London and she knew that he had to come back soon if he was coming back at all.

"Mr. Matthew?" She asked back to the darkness.

He came out of the shadows, and Anna glanced over her shoulder to ensure that Mary's window was shut.

"Anna," He said, "I think it is really time I come back. I've tried to so many times this year, but I just- I haven't brought myself around to doing it."

"It's alright," she said kindly, "Everyone is going to be so happy to see you alive."

"I hope you are right," He smiled. "I've been thinking quite a while about the best way to do this. And I think the best thing might be to give Mary a letter explaining it all. That way she can process it, maybe talk to you about, before throwing it all at her at once."

"That seems a kind thing to do," Anna agreed. "She doesn't always take to surprises."

"I wrote out this letter," Matthew passed it to her. "Do you think you might leave it in her room when she wakes?"

"I can do that, Mr. Crawley," Anna nodded.

"Thank you, Anna," He nodded. "Hopefully, I will be seeing you soon."

"Hopefully indeed," Anna smiled and walked back into the house.

Her thoughts returned to earlier. Mary was strong. Anna believed in her. Though this would be a shock, it would be the loveliest shock anyone could ever imagine.

* * *

November 1920

"Come in," Replied Matthew to the knock at the door. He knew that Mary would be occupied entertaining guests and wouldn't notice Tom coming upstairs to visit him. He felt awful keeping things, this, anything- from her, but he couldn't let her become a victim.

"What do you need?" Tom asked, entering the room.

"You should probably sit down," Matthew told him, and Tom nodded, taking a seat.

"Today when we were out looking for the animals, I didn't run into a tree," Matthew admitted.

"Well that makes me a feel bit better, I thought that only a toff would run into a tree," Tom laughed good-naturedly.

Matthew smiled, "Toff indeed!" Then he paused, this was going to be hard to explain believably to anyone.

"You see," Matthew said, "I didn't hit my head, I was knocked out."

Tom let a little gasp, but let Matthew continue. "There seems to be this scoundrel who wants to bring down Downton. And he seems to want to do this by murdering me. He wanted to today, but very oddly, he must be some sort of sympathetic murder- he said he would wait until-" Matthew paused, realizing that family didn't know about Mary's pregnancy yet, "until Mary has a child."

Tom's face was creased with worry now. Matthew worried that perhaps Tom wasn't the best person to have gone to. Maybe Sybil's death was too fresh for him that he wouldn't want to hear about more death. But Matthew had hoped that Tom, in losing Sybil and knowing the pain of the loss of a spouse would agree to help him.

"Is that something that you reckon will happen soon?" Tom asked, still processing everything Matthew told him.

"Yes, in nine months, presumably," Matthew smirked a bit and Tom glowed red.

"Congratulations," Tom put his hand on Matthew's shoulder.

"I'm sorry to tell you this way," Matthew said, "In wake of the dreadful story, but Mary and I only just found out. We were waiting just a bit before we tell the family."

"It's alright," Tom nodded. "But what are you going to do? You surely can't let yourself be killed by this hooligan."

"Right," Matthew said, "I've got a bit of plan. But it can only really work if I've got your help."

"Whatever you need," Tom said certainly.

* * *

July 1923

Mary awoke to the sun shinning peaking through the drapes of her window. Mary blinked several times. She knew it must be the late morning by now. She was usually one to wake early, but between Rose's Ball from a night ago and her visions of Matthew yesterday (which had prompted a late night crying jag), Mary had had a long deep sleep.

She closed her eyes lightly as she rolled over to the space that Matthew would have occupied had he been here. She thought of how mornings with him were her favorite- their secret extra time. The way his golden hair would glow in the morning sunshine. She let her eyes flutter open again as her face made contact with a note. It was a sealed note, with her name hand written on the front. Mary froze. A shiver passed her through her body. She knew that handwriting.

Her hand shook as she reached for it. What was doing this here? Was this a joke? Another hidden will? She clasped it in her hand, as she let her eyes look over the envelope. It was just as she had remembered his writing, the way it had the posh crispness of a well-trained schoolboy, the carefulness of a well-intentioned solicitor.

She pulled herself out of bed, pulling her dressing gown around herself as she went to the window. She opened the curtain to reveal the lazy late morning in Belgravia. Her American family had left yesterday and now her family would leave later this afternoon. She thought of ringing Anna for her tray, but then hesitated. What would this letter say? Mary realized that she needed to open it in private.

Mary thought of the person she had sworn she had saw the day before. She had spent the night convincing herself to forget she saw anything. Isobel's words rang int her ears, "_There is no point in us practical women pretending that a dead man is alive_."

* * *

November 1920

"Good evening darling," Mary said, entering their room, "I wished you had been down there with me. The company as absolutely dreary." She stopped and glanced at Tom, obviously surprised. "Oh hello, Tom," Mary added.

"I'm just leaving Mary," he said, rising and moving towards the door, "I thought Matthew might want some company."

"Yes, we must take care of our invalid," Mary cooed. "How are you?" She asked, taking the seat that Tom had just occupied.

"Still a little worse for wear," Matthew said, he smiled at Tom, "But I'll be alright."

"Good night Tom," Mary chimed, as he exited.

"Good night Mary, Matthew," Tom nodded, before leaving the couple alone.

Mary moved from the chair to sit on the edge of the bed. "What's worst, your head or your back?"

Matthew frowned. At first his head had ached, but the pain of it had worn off not too long ago. However, the fall had triggered the pain from his back injury to return, which took longer for it to fade away.

"Back," Matthew grimaced.

Mary smiled sympathetically. "Here, I'll rub it for you. I promise I'll be gentle."

Matthew obliged, slowly flipping over so that Mary could massage the pain away. He hated feeling so fragile. It was only two years ago that he had been paralyzed, being pushed around in the wheelchair, knowing that he had no future. He had tried as hard has he could to put that moment behind him. It was such a dark time in his life. Yet, this moment now, seemed equally grim. The fact that he was injured only made it worse.

Mary's soft hands moved over his back, her hands pulling up his pyjama shirt to touch the her delicate fingers to his back. He could feel how tiny and lovely her fingers were as they gently kneaded away the pain. The plan he had created with Tom seemed solid. There would be little that could go wrong and he felt a vague sort of confidence that he would not be murdered- if it all went well. However, Matthew knew that there was no way Mary could know about it.

He had thought through it and knew that it needed to be believed that he was dead. That the Crawley family had been torn apart already. If their pain seemed real, Matthew hoped that the murderer would leave his family alone. If Mary had hope, if anyone did, it would give away the fact that he was alive. The family wouldn't be safe.

All the same, Matthew knew that he was objecting Mary to unimaginable pain. He could only hope that he would be able to return to Mary, to vanquish this evil man, and rejoin his family once this whole hideous affair was over.

"Does that help at all darling?" Mary asked. Matthew felt a wave of compassion for his beautiful, kind wife.

"Yes," He told, turning over again to face her. She placed a kiss on his lips.

"Mary, you must always know that I love you," He said firmly. He needed to say that he loved her as much as he could over the coming months.

"As I love you," Mary said smiling, as she went to ring for Anna to prepare for bed.

"Don't forget that, alright?" Matthew murmured. Mary looked at him thoughtfully and he she must be wondering where his rush sentimentality came from.

"I couldn't ever forget," Mary sighed, returning to him for one more kiss.

* * *

Reviews will make me smile!

**Next Week: **1923- Mary opens the note, 1920- Matthew finalizes his preparations


	5. Chapter 5

_You know what they say- distance makes the heart grow fonder! Sorry for not posting a chapter in quite a while. I had final exams for my university, so I needed to focus on those for a bit. One of my classes was actually on Downton Abbey (be jealous), so even once exams were over I needed to take a mini Downton break. But I spent the weekend working on a new chapter, so hopefully you all like it! I'm really excited to share it with you guys._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

July 1923

In the privacy of her room she let herself cry as she fumbled to open it. Her trembling hands unfolded the note.

_My Darling Mary,_

_Do you remember years ago, just after Sybil left us, when I promised to love you until the last breath left my body? It is because of this promise that I must send you this note now, my dearest. I am alive._

_I know this news will come as a huge shock to you, my dearest. I am sure that you very angry with me for putting you through all this pain and grief._ _There was a very hideous scheme to bring down the entire house and the only way to keep you safe was for you and everyone else believe that I was dead. Anna and Tom know some of the details._

_All is well now. The murderer is gone forever and I would very much like to return to you, our son, and our family. However, I understand that you may have moved on. There seem to be several charming chaps courting you and if that is what you want, if you have forgotten me- I would understand._

_If you would like to see me, I will be in Hyde Park this afternoon- at the place we took a picnic during that warm afternoon during our honeymoon (Remember how strange it was to have a warm March day? We thought it must be a wedding gift to us from God). If you feel uncomfortable, please bring Anna or George or Tom with you- goodness knows I don't want you to be afraid. If you don't come, I will assume it means you've moved on and I promise I won't both you ever again._

_With all of my love,_

_Matthew_

Teardrops adorned the letter and she let herself fall into her window armchair. She was overwhelmed by emotion- elation, relief, doubt, and the tiniest hint of anger. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her body was shaking all over. She didn't even know how to begin to process this. Should she even believe it? Could it even be true? This could be either the cruelest joke or the most unforeseen miracle. Mary had worked so hard to rebuild everything, that to have false hope for nothing, Mary knew she would retreat to her old ways.

She needed something; someone to tell her it was safe to believe. Her eyes glanced down at the letter before her. Anna. Tom. They were that something. Imagining it was just like any other morning, she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and rang for Anna.

* * *

September 1921

The months had fluttered by. Matthew had watched as the seasons changed and Mary's usually flat stomach grew into a small bump. Matthew loved seeing his wife looking so rosy and bright, full of anticipation at the arrival of their child. He was at a point of conflict- being so delighted to finally be father, and yet the hugely looming veil of fear at the secrets and plans he was devising.

Whenever he wanted to enjoy a moment- to delight in a spring afternoon picnicking with Mary or to revel in beautiful strangeness of feeling the baby kick- he was immediately hit by the guilt of his secrets and the pain he knew he would inflict on those loved. There was also a great risk of his plan going awry. Matthew and Tom had spent months crafting it and they were certain that it would give Matthew a chance at survival, but there were so many unknowns. He didn't know how the criminal planned to kill him. He could be waiting outside the hospital with a shotgun for all he knew. In which case Matthew would be done for.

Tom and Matthew's plan was extensive. They had been working on it since November- putting aside money, booking passages on ocean liners, and solidifying plans. They had done everything they could to ensure that he would have the greatest chance to live. There wasn't much left to do anymore.

On his last day at the office, Matthew sighed, looking over the papers at his desk. He thought of the piles of work that wouldn't do. He had felt guilty earlier today when he had met with a client, knowing that he wouldn't actually be able to represent them. He was to leave for Duneagle in the morning. This would be his last time in this office for a while. When he that the plan would involve him being away from family for a long time, he had wanted to quit his job. As much as he loved work, he wanted to spend as much time with Mary as possible. He wanted to appreciate every moment they had left together. He figured it would be years before he would see her again. The very thought of that made him feel sick inside.

Just one last thing lay before him now. He needed to write up a letter that would let his wishes about inheritance be known. He imagined a grieving Mary reading it, dressed in black. He pushed the thought aside and focused on writing it. He needed to make it seem like he had simply decided on whim to write the will. He had some more clients coming in an hour; they would be able to witness his signature. But for how, he needed to start writing.

* * *

July 1923

Anna walked in the door, Mary's breakfast tray in hand. Her hands were shaking. She had hoped that it was right to deliver the letter and she had assumed Mary had read it by now. What would see think? Anna had barely slept the night before. She thought of all kind things Mary had done for her and she hope that her role in helping them reunite would help make up for it.

But then again, what if Mary was upset? What if she didn't want to see Matthew, just as he feared?

Anna knew that upon entering the room, she was entering into all of Mary and Matthew's drama to come. But it was her duty. She thought of the way she loved John. No matter what had come in their way, they were meant to be together. She had love for no one else. She thought that Mary and Matthew were much the same way. Mary could have accepted Gillingham or Blake or even Napier months ago, but she had strung them along for a year and a half now. Anna believed that Mary and Matthew were always meant to be. And they still would be, she told herself, as she continued into the room.

"Good morning, milady," Anna piped up, taking Mary in. She was in her armchair by the window, wrapped in her dressing gown, her arms wrapped around herself. Her face looked tearstained but bright.

"Anna," Mary nodded as Anna put the tray down on the table beside her.

"Did you read the note, milady?" Anna asked, trying to figure out Mary's disposition.

"I did," Mary looked out the window, seeming lost. "To be honest, I'm not sure how to process it all, or even if I should believe it. Do you know if is legitimate?"

"It is, milady," Anna smiled, as she moved to get Mary's clothes for the day.

"Are you quite sure?" Mary said, her voice sounding strangled, "It's just that I don't want to believe if this isn't true-"

"Milady, he gave it me himself and told me to leave it in your room for you," Anna declared, walking into Mary's dressing room. She wanted to give Mary a moment to process it herself. She couldn't imagine how overwhelmed she must be. Mary was always so confident and strong, Anna knew she didn't like to appear weak.

Anna looked through Mary's dresses. Knowing that she was going to see Matthew today for the first time in two years, she wanted Mary to look her best. She took out a new dress that Mary had just had made in London. It was pale pink, in latest style, and had a matching hat with a pink ribbon. It was the sort of dress for a new start.

Anna returned to the room with the dress in hand. Mary had uncurled and was looking out the window wistfully. She turned to Anna, "So he's really-" Mary broke off for a moment, seemingly overwhelmed.

"Alive," Anna said, a smile tugging at her lips, "Believe it. And if you don't get a move on milady, you won't be ready to meet up with him."

"You're right," Mary said, she seemed more balanced now. Her face didn't look as pale and weary. Anna knew that Mary was the strongest woman she knew. Only Mary could put on the poised face she did the morning after Pamuk died in her bed. And only Mary could face this life changing news with the same grace.

"What do I even say to him?" Mary murmured, as Anna helped her into her dress.

"Just love him," Anna said as she fastened the zipper, "He only did what he did to keep you very safe. He never would have left you if he didn't think it would save you. Mr. Crawley has been very brave and so have you. Now this is your reward for your courage."

Mary smiled at Anna's sentiment. She brought her a pair of light pink pearl earrings and a matching necklace to finish her look.

"Thank you Anna," Mary smiled at her friend. Mary gave a slight frown, looking down. "How did you know about Mr. Crawley's situation exactly?"

Anna froze. She thought of last summer. The phone call that she never saw coming. The way she ran into London, trying to get lost in the crowds in Piccadilly, so that no one would find her. And the person she found there. It was a disturbing blur that she couldn't talk about. Not because it was awful memories, but because so many secrets were tied up in it.

"I'm sorry, Milady," Anna said looking down, "I don't think I can. I think that it's probably something that Mr. Crawley should tell you."

Mary pursed her lips together, looking concerned. "I see." Mary looked up, hesistant. "What if he isn't the same? What if there been too much time passed? What if he has as all these secrets? Maybe it's better if I just don't go-"

Anna was fastening Mary's shoes, so she looked up to meet Mary's eyes. "He loves you milady and he has spent three years trying to find his way back to you. The least you can do is at meet with him and see. I know this is very hard. I'm sure you feel so much at once. But I believe in you and Mr. Matthew. This day is meant for you two."

Mary sighed. Anna hoped that her words were enough. She felt awful for Mary who had to face all of this news and process it so quickly. But if anyone was strong enough to do this, Anna believed it was Mary.

* * *

September 1921

Matthew looked across the Scottish landscape. It was so natural- dark moors and grass that seemed too green to be real. It had such a mysterious magical quality to it. He was happy to have had the past days with Mary here. He realized that once he faked his death, Mary would think these were their last memories together. He wanted their last memories together to be special and meaningful. He was working hard to maintain a delicate balance of making Mary feel loved and adored, without over doing it to make her feel suspicious. So far, it had been working. He had tried to remind her each night before they slept just how much he loved her. Hopefully, she would remember every word for when times got rough.

He felt bad as he carried on stalking and fly-fishing with Gregson that he wasn't spending every moment he could with his wife. But surely trying to avoid the family activities and spending time just with Mary would cause strange looks and he wanted everything to appear normal. Matthew frowned, glancing at the dark sky over head, he felt as if he was in a gothic novel: The awful storm forming overhead, foreboding the dark events in his not so distant future.

He forced himself to turn his attention to Gregson, who was giving him his life story. Yesterday, Matthew had thought Gregson to be a man of mystery and now Matthew understood why. Gregson's mad wife was certainly a dark secret and not parlor talk.

"So you see," Gregson said, as he threw his fishing line into the water, "I can't divorce Lizzy, but I love Edith so dearly, I'm not quite sure what to do."

Matthew bit his lip. He quite liked Gregson and thought that he was an excellent match for Edith. They were both very clever and had similar interests. However, Matthew had a deeper worry. Once he was gone, the murderer would have to find a new target, a new way to take the family down. Gregson

Gregson was the perfect target if Matthew left. If the murderer was going to love interests of the daughters, he would be next. As Matthew listened to Gregson weaving his story about Lizzy, his insane wife, Matthew realized this was the opportunity he was looking for- a chance to warn him away from the family. Matthew cared a great deal about Edith. He knew that Gregson was a new source of happiness for her, but in discouraging him now, he could perhaps ensure that he would be around for her later.

Matthew took a deep breath, knowing what he was about to do. "I don't think this is a very smart idea, Gregson. Lady Edith is the daughter of an Earl. Having an affair with her would make her an item of gossip in London, as if being jilted at the alter didn't already. Would you really want to subject her to that?"

He thought of a conversation he had had with Mary once. It was late at night, a few months after marriage. She had told him about how their happy marriage was the gossip in London about her these days, which was far better than the petty gossip about her and Pamuk which had haunted her earlier. Matthew had been unaware that she had ridiculed by society because of it. He regretted the fact that he had been so self absorbed that he hadn't been attuned to the pain Mary was facing. It had been so early on, just a few months after they met- how could he have known? All the same, he felt guilt that Mary had been forced to face gossip alone. He knew that Edith didn't care much if she was gossiped about- she was fiercely in pursuit of her own happiness. However, this worked as a perfect reason to convince Gregson out of the affair.

"So the laws of society should be preserved, no matter what? Edith gave me the idea you were a freer soul than that," Gregson grumbled, as they began to make their way out of the creek.

Matthew gritted his teeth and passed his fishing rod to the servant on the shore. "I find that hard to believe." He sighed, running his hand through his hair. This would be harder than he thought. "I agree your position is tragic and I'm very sorry." He looked off at the mountains, thinking very briefly of everything he was about to risk to stay alive. Even if it would hurt Gregson now, it was better than being murdered. "But you can't imagine, I would let Edith slide into a life of scandal without trying to stop her."

"Will you tell Lord Grantham?" Gregson asked.

Matthew frowned. It seemed like despite his discouragement, Gregson would be set on Edith no matter what. Matthew didn't want that, he wanted resignation. He decided to appeal to Gregson more as a friend, than as a member of the family. "I'm not going to tell anyone." He said, with a tone of confidence. "But you must see it is quite hopeless."

Gregson fiddled with a cigarette, "Are you saying I should leave now? And not stay for the ball?"

"No," Matthew said quickly. He smiled, "Use it to say a proper good bye. You owe her that."

Matthew gave Gregson one last look and headed off into the woods, leaving the other men behind. His eyes were starting to get the tinest bit glossy, and he couldn't let Gregson see that. He thought painfully about how this would be the closest thing to a proper good bye for Mary as well. These nine days spent in Scotland and this magnificent ball would be all she would think of her husbands last days. Matthew didn't have the liberty that Gregson had to actually say good bye to his love, but only the opportunity to make their last memories as happy and loving as possible.

Matthew looked up at the sky. The clouds seemed darker now than just a few minutes before, the storm was getting closer and closer by the minute. There was nothing Matthew could do to stop. All that was left was to enjoy the few precious minutes before it struck.

* * *

_So that's that. A lot of details and questions from Season 4 will also be answered in this fic, such as- What happened to Gregson? Did Bates go to London and what happened there? But much more on that will come later :)_

_Reviews make me smile and I like smiling, so you should probably get on that!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Happy Tuesday friends! I wrote this chapter about a week ago and I've spent the last week editing it. It is by far the longest so far (hopefully it isn't too long), but there were a lot of important things I wanted to set up for the next chapter (which is the reunion). I also wanted to try to understand Mary's complex emotions on the sudden news about Matthew and Matthew's emotions about George's birth. Anyway- enjoy!_

* * *

**Chapter 6**

July 1923

Mary fiddled with an earring, not ready to face her family. There would be luncheon soon and then Mary would leave to meet Matthew. _Oh God, this was real_. A million questions darted through her mind. Where had he been? Why didn't he contact her? His note seemed loving, so she assumed that he still had feelings for her. What if he was just saying this to get her to meet him? What if Anna had been wrong and it wasn't Matthew at all? An imposter? A murderer? She took a deep breath settling herself from her tizzy of worry. Anna had never been dishonest and was never one to raise her hopes falsely. If she said Matthew was really alive, he had to be.

She looked in the mirror a final time. Anna had pinned her hair in place, but Mary kept pushing the pins in further. What would he think of her hair? She wore it slightly differently than she had two years ago. She had faint bags under her eyes from not sleeping and doing so much crying. Would he think she was less beautiful because of it?

Mary pushed her hesitations out of her mind. "_A stormbraver if ever I saw one_," Matthew had once said of her. Mary loved Matthew. She always had. His love had always given her strength. She remembered years ago, fearing scandal- knowing that staying in England meant facing ridicule during the next season and from then on. Yet, she said yes to Matthew, finding strength because she knew he would be beside her, because he believed in her. She thought of their love and how it would see them through. It had to.

In many ways, this was her dream. During the dark time, the terrible six months that she tried to forget what happened- that Matthew was really, really gone. She had often tried to imagine him alive again. She'd picture him bursting into her room or coming down to dinner late. She tried to think of every way she could imagine him coming back, anything so that he was real again. She had never let herself believe it would happen, and yet now, here it was.

She glanced at her clock. She would be needed for luncheon now. She came downstairs and into the room where her family was dining. It was a light luncheon as her family would be traveling home today.

"We didn't see you at all this morning, Mary," her father said, looking to her as she took her seat, "Are you quite fine?"

"Oh yes, quite," Mary replied, "I just wanted to have some time to myself."

"Are you sad to be going home?" Her mother asked.

"I actually was going to ask about that," Mary said, taking a sip of the beverage in front of her, "I think I might stay on in London for a few more days, if you don't mind."

"Of course we don't," her mother exclaimed, giving her a crafty grin, "Is this about Gillingham or Blake or one of your men?"

_One of my men_, Mary thought knowingly, smiling to herself, _my only man._ "You could say that," Mary replied.

Mary had thought this through as she had procrastinated in her room earlier that day. She wanted her reunion with Matthew to be free of the family. She wanted to reunite with him on her own and to spend time with him. She knew how it would go if her family found out. Robert would clasp him on the shoulder and say "my dear chap, I'm so happy for you," not unlike he did when he knew Matthew would walk again. Cora would probably gasp and cry. Edith would give a stupid smile and talk cheerfully to Matthew, but make a rude comment to Mary about it later. Rose would think it all terribly romantic. Carson would brim with joy- he never really understood Mary's love for Matthew, but knowing the happiness that Matthew brought Mary, he would love him anyway. Some of the newer servants, like Baxter wouldn't even know who he was. And Granny, oh Granny might be happiest of all. She always supported Mary and Matthew, perhaps before anyone else did.

But Matthew was hers and she didn't want to give him up to her family's weeps of joy. She wanted to touch Matthew, hold him in her arms for a very long time before she gave him up to the others. Because of this, Mary had decided that she would tell her parents that she was staying in London for a few more days. This would ensure her a few days alone with Matthew.

"Well then certainly you should stay in London," Robert agreed.

It was arranged neatly. Mary would stay in Grantham House for three more days. Anna and Bates would stay on as well. "I really don't see why you need Bates to stay," grumbled Robert. Mary wanted him to there to valet Matthew of course, but also to give Anna and Bates a bit of break as a thank you for all the help. First Bates had helped by securing them that note, and now Anna had helped her reunite with Matthew. Whatever resentment Mary had had against Bates earlier in the week over the train ticket, Mary wanted only happiness to such a loyal and well-loved couple.

And then there was George. As much as she wanted to keep Matthew to herself, she also desperately wanted him to know their son. Mary wondered if she was motherly enough to watch to George for three days on her own, seeing as Sybbie and their nanny were to return to Yorkshire today. He was almost two now and more independent. If Anna and Bates were around, they could probably help too. Mary knew that they were thinking about having children themselves and maybe babysitting George would help them decide.

"I think George will stay here as well," Mary announced.

"Is that really wise, Mary?" Cora admonished. "You'd hardly have time to care for him you were off with your suitors."

"Well if they can't tolerate my having children, there is no point in having them as suitors," Mary pointed out, trying to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The suitors were after all just a cover for Matthew, so she wasn't in the mood to argue with her mother over a non-existent issue.

"What if I stayed to help?" Isobel said, giving Mary a hint of a smile.

"Of course," Mary smiled graciously, "Thank you." She had been wondering what to do about Isobel. After their conversation last night, Mary had thought it wrong to keep Matthew's reappearance from her. Maybe Isobel even suspected that Mary's staying on in London was about Matthew. She couldn't see Isobel being very forgiving about keeping that from her. She knew that Isobel would weep and make over Matthew in much the same way that her family would. But Isobel was Matthew's mother and if anyone was entitled to gush over him, it was Isobel.

"We do know something about looking after young ones, us middle class. I raised Matthew myself," Isobel commented. She looked so at home in Grantham House that it was easy to forget that Isobel and Matthew had existed in a world without nannys and governesses.

"It will be just the thing," Mary said, giving Isobel a warm smile.

Robert began discussing plans to visit Duneagle in a month. He was already babbling about hunting and visiting the mountain lookout. Mary realized that if all this about Matthew was true, he would be there too. She imagined how entirely wonderful it would be: walking through the Scottish landscape hand in hand, dancing together at the ball, and crawling into bed together every night.

The fact that this fantasy that Mary had was so close to being a reality astounded her and she realized that she couldn't waste anymore time. She needed to see Matthew right now. She had gone down to luncheon to keep the charade for her family, so they would think that nothing was up. But now Mary felt foolish. It was already past noon. Matthew had to be waiting for her already. She had to see him. She couldn't waste anymore time.

"I think I'm going to go on a walk now," Mary said, rising.

"Already?" Cora asked, perplexed, "You just sat down to luncheon."

Mary smiled, "I slept late and I'm not very hungry. I think a walk and fresh air will help wake me a bit."

"We'll probably have left by the time you return," Robert said.

"Have a safe trip then," Mary said cheerfully; "I'll see you in a few days."

* * *

September 1921

Tom stood at the window looking out across the landscape. There wasn't much left to do anymore. Everything was in place; he'd just have to wait.

When the Crawleys' invitation to Duneagle had come a few months ago, Tom has been relieved not to be asked. Putting on the airs that he was an upper class, estate agent had been exhausting and he had been looking forward to having a break for nine days to catch his breath.

It was just after they realized he wouldn't be coming, however, that he and Matthew realized that this week and a half would be perfect for Tom to finish the preparations to Matthew's survival plan. Of course it was- the family would be gone, the servants distracted- there was nothing to get in the way of his unusual proceedings. Though Tom slightly begrudged not getting the rest he thought he deserved, he realized that Matthew's life was significantly more important.

He had started the day that the Crawleys left. He had found an empty cottage on the far side of the property that he assumed people had long forgotten about. This would be his storage area for all the materials needed for his plan. Before Bates had left, Tom had privately asked him for the name of some of his friends who had certain abilities. Bates had obliged, though he gave Tom a strange look.

The first day Tom visited one of the men. He was the sort of man who did false papers. Tom and Matthew had decided early in their planning that Matthew should go abroad after he escaped. America made the most sense. Going over to the continent would be too easy. If the murderer realized in any way that Matthew was still alive, it wouldn't be hard for him to get to him. But America was further and safer. Luckily Matthew and Tom had set aside small bits of money here and there over the past few months to pay for the crossing. New blue passports were required now to go to America, but with the amount of money that they had set aside, it was easy enough to get a fake one. Tom had it made out in the name of Reginald Levinson. This way, even if the murderer checked to see who was on the list of the crossing, he couldn't know that Matthew had crossed.

The second day's task was a bit more grisly. He had asked Bates for the name of a person who dealt with the dead. Apparently, in prison he had known a man who worked at a sort of body farm- a place where bodies that were meant to go to medical training were held. Tom gave the man a description of what he needed- blond, broad shouldered, and rather handsome. The body the man returned with was easy enough to pass as Matthew after a tragic accident. Though it repulsed Tom to have to look at the body and carry it back in the car, he pushed on, knowing it was all to save his friend's life.

The third day was easier. He needed to buy a lorry from a guy in Ripon. It wasn't difficult to do and certainly less gruesome than buying bodies. He left it behind the cottage hopefully obscured to the house. While he was in Ripon, he booked the ticket for Matthew's crossing.

Everything was arranged now, Tom thought, as he took a final glance around the room. The body was concealed in a room under a pile of blankets. Tom wasn't exactly sure how one hides a dead body and he figured it might stink a bit, but honestly, he just needed it to last a few more days. He had just heard from Mrs. Hughes that Mary had returned early and was already at the hospital. Matthew and the family would be returning in the next day or so. In less than 24 hours, this would all be over, for better or for ill.

* * *

July 1921

Mary quickly summoned Carson to bring her things for going out. She asked for pram to bring to George. She figured if he was staying too, she might as well take him to meet Matthew with her. She went up the nursery where George playing with Sybbie.

"Mummy," he squeeled when Mary walked in. He jumped up and ran to hug Mary's knee. George had been toddling around for a few months now, but it astounded Mary every time she saw him move to see that her tiny son slowly turning into a small person.

Mary knelt next to him, "Do you want to go on a walk with Mummy?" She asked him gently.

He grinned up at her. "Yes! Yes yes! Walk!"

She smiled at the nanny who brought over George's outdoor clothes.

"Let's go walk, shall we?" Mary said to George gently as he finished putting on his jacket. He took her hand. His hair had turned blond, just like Matthew's and he had the same bright blue eyes. She smiled at her small son.

They walked to front door where Anna was waiting with Mary's jacket, umbrella, and hat.

"Would you care to come with us, Anna?" Mary asked, her voice hesitant. "It's just that I'm… I could use your support."

"Of course, milady," Anna grinned, "I'll get my things."

Mary lifted George into the pram and she walked outside to wait for Anna. This was it. This was really really it. Hyde Park was a five-minute from Belgrave Square, and then probably 10 minutes more to place she would meet Matthew. Mary hoped that in the next fifteen minutes she would gain her courage.

Matthew had always been more sentimental than she was. He was the one for amorous declarations, where as she would gently tease him. Mary had always thought herself the strong one. Though Mary once declared she didn't have a heart, she knew that wasn't true. Mary was filled with emotions, but being upper class she liked to keep them hidden. Yet Mary wondered if she could be that strong in front of Matthew when they reunited. Perhaps it was silly of her to bring George and Anna if they were to view the spectacle that Mary would turn into. But they were her strength. Just as Matthew was. Perhaps she had already braved the storm. Just as Anna had said earlier, this was her reward. Honestly, who would really care if she burst into tears upon seeing Matthew? He was essentially back from the dead, that was certainly grounds for an emotional display.

"Mary," Tom said, drawing Mary from her reverie, as he walked outside to see her.

"Tom," said Mary, brightly.

"He wrote to you, didn't he?" Tom asked quietly.

"He did," Mary nodded.

"And you are going to see him, now?" Tom questioned, expectantly.

"I am," Mary smiled.

Tom let out a sigh of relief and nodded. "I'm so happy for you," he told her, "for you both."

"I've heard you had a hand in all this, whatever you've done, I thank you so much for keeping him safe and alive," Mary said, graciously.

"It wasn't easy," Tom confessed, "but I'm glad it worked out."

"Did you want to stay on in London too?" Mary asked. As much as she wanted Matthew all to herself, she didn't want to be rude to Tom.

"No," Tom smiled, "I've probably seen Matthew more than anyone else in this family for the past couple years, so you deserve some time just with him."

"Thank you, Tom," Mary said warmly.

"And I'll try to keep your parents at bay, if they get too curious about why you are in London," Tom said, giving her a cheeky smile.

"Oh Tom," Mary sighed, "I don't know how I will ever repay you for all you've done to help Matthew and I."

"Just part of my family duty," Tom said, sincerely.

"Well thank you none the less," Mary said and Tom nodded, returning back into the house just as Anna was walking out.

"Ready to go milady?" Anna asked.

"Yes," Mary said firmly, "let's walk!"

"Walk!" Exclaimed George, as they set off.

* * *

September 1921

Matthew lingered outside the hospital room. He had waited all his life for this moment. He had risked so much to make it here. Fatherhood.

He had remembered a few years before as he lay in a bed in this same hospital. He remembered finding out that he would never have children and feeling any possible happiness fade from him. The vision that Matthew had of small children running around his feet, teaching them to play cricket, having family teas in late afternoon- all vanished in an instant. He had failed as an Earl. And then, months later, the miracle happened, he walked again and knew at that moment that he would once again have children.

But then there was the first few months of marriage. They weren't trying very hard at first, but after Sybbie was born, it became so evident that they both wanted children. Mary's face when she held Tom and Sybil's tiny daughter was filled with such admiration that Matthew wished he could give her a child right there. So they began to try more actively, but still there was nothing. Matthew worried it was him. After everything that had happened, all the ways he had recovered, he might still had failed the family. And then there was that moment in London, when he came to the foot of the stairs and there was Mary. It had been embarrassing and awkward for the both of them, but as they took tea together, he knew that it was the moment he waited for. The moment he would become a father, was finally, finally going to come.

Then there was this hideous murder affair shrouding it all. Matthew knew that in just a few minutes, surely within this hour, he would fake his own death. He had called Tom from the station and he would be on his way. The only thing missing was Matthew's car, which was parked outside. Matthew only had this tiny moment left with Mary and their child. He was full of nerves, afraid of the success of his plan, yet so delighted and excited for this baby.

Just ten minutes, Matthew told himself. I have just ten minutes left with my son and wife. I am going to cherish just them for the next ten minutes. He pushed the anxiety out of his mind and entered the room.

He saw Mary in the sunlight, looking serene and elegant as usual. The tiny infant tucked into her arms; like there was no better place that child belonged. The afternoon light was streaming through the windows and the mother and babe looked as if they were simply glowing. Matthew had never in his whole life had seen anything as beautiful. He knew that if died in the next hour, this final image of his wife and son would be the only thing he ever needed to see.

"Can this hot and dusty traveller come in?" He asked, smiling so wide, he thought he might burst.

Mary and Anna both let out a gasp at Matthew's joyful face, but he didn't let that stop him. He strode over to his wife.

"Say hello to your son and heir," Mary said softly, as Anna left the room.

Now it was just his family. His family. Matthew had a family of his own. He felt as if happiness radiated from every pore of his being.

Mary passed him the tiny bundle of a person. He gazed with wonder at the baby he held in his arms: a miniature version of the very best of him and Mary. The baby let out soft coos and he felt as if he was melting with joy.

He knew that the baby couldn't understand him at all, but he wanted the child to know. He wanted his son to know that he was loved and adored. The child would grow up thinking that he had no father. He wanted to tell him, and Mary too, that everything would be alright. That he was planning this scheme to save all their lives. That although in a hour a man would run in the room and tell them all that Matthew Crawley was dead, that he was very much alive. Yet he couldn't, he couldn't reveal the secret. All he could do was make this these last moments worth it all.

"Hello my dearest chap," he told the small child, holding him out before his eyes, memorizing everything about him.

"I wonder if he has any idea how much joy he brings with him," Matthew murmured to Mary, as he began to choke up. This was all too much for him.

He turned to Mary then, thinking of how strong she was. She had just undergone child birth, a horrible and painful experience, and in an hour she would learn that her husband was dead, perhaps the worst new anyone could hear. Matthew was proud that he was married to such a strong woman. If anyone could do this, his storm braver could.

"My darling, how are you, really?" He asked.

"Tired, and pretty relieved," She admitted. Matthew watch as the baby squirmed in his arms. "But just think, we've done our duty. Downton is safe. Papa must dancing a jig."

Matthew smiled. Having a son made this plan seamless. If it had been a daughter, the situation would have been more difficult. Who would inherit? What about when Matthew returned? It would be like that horrible P. Gordon affair all over again. But with a son, it was all secure. Downton was safe.

Matthew smiled at her, exclaiming, "I'm dancing a jig! I feel like I've swallowed a box of fireworks."

And he did. He really did. He wanted to hold the small child in his arms forever and not let him go. He wanted to protect the baby and Mary from all the pain they were about to feel. He loved them so, so dearly. He was right, he was really meant to be a father. This was worth everything.

He returned the child to Mary's arms. Beaming at her smiling face and letting his fingers run over hers.

"You are going to be such a wonderful mother," He told her, sincerely. He remembered to the moments after she realized she was pregnant, when she worried about how she would be as a mother. He wanted her to know that she could do this without him. She could be strong without him.

"How do you know?" Mary asked, looking at him.

"Because," Matthew said, kneeling beside her. He wanted to be as close to her as he could. His time was slipping away. Every moment now was so incredibly precious. "Because you are such a wonderful woman."

She turned to him, "I hope I am allowed to be your Mary Crawley for all of eternity… not Edith's version, or anyone else's for that matter." He thought of how true her words were. What if she moved on after his death? What if when he returned she was married and happy? What if she had children with another man, living at another estate? He wished for everything in his heart that she really could be his Mary Crawley for all of eternity.

"You'll be my Mary always," he said, rubbing her arm. _God he loved her so much_. "Because mine is the true Mary." Even if she did move on, if she married before he returned, his love for her would always be so authentic and true. It would always be theirs. "Do you ever wonder how happy you've made me?"

"You sound rather foreign," Mary remarked, her gaze resting on their son. Matthew felt a wave of panic. Perhaps he had gone too soft, maybe she would realize that something was off. "Shouldn't you be saying things like 'you'll be up and about in no time?'"

He laughed and shook his head, "I'll do all that tomorrow." Of course there would be no tomorrow. Tomorrow Mary would be all alone. Matthew only had right now. He had only a few seconds before he would have to leave. "But right now, I want to tell you that I fall more in love with you every day that passes."

Mary's smile was so beautiful and true as looked back at him, "I'll remind you of that next time I scratch the car."

"Do," he laughed, "I give you full permission."

He looked carefully at his son, savoring each first and last moment.

"Where are the others?" Mary asked and Matthew knew that this was the beginning of the end. She would send him away soon and scheme would begin. All of this beauty and love would be but a memory.

"Back at the house," he sighed, "panting to see you. To see you both." His family. His beautiful, beautiful family. "But I've sent mother to keep them at bay. I wanted a chance to be alone with family."

"You better go and tell them," Mary said, "but first, I think I've earned a decent kiss."

This was it. The final kiss. One last kiss for who knows how long. It could be forever really.

"You certainly, certainly have," he breathed, as he brushed his hand along her chin, their eyes meeting.

And he pulled her in for one final kiss. It was long, each of them relishing in the moment and letting their lips linger. He met her eyes as he pulled away. _God he would miss her_. He let his hand rest on hers as he took a final look at their son.

"I'll be back soon," Matthew said. He knew he was lying. It would probably be years.

"I'll hold you to that," Mary smiled, as he stood.

"Good bye, my darlings," He said as he went to the door.

"Good bye," Mary said, though her eyes were on the baby now.

In the hallway, Matthew let the tears fall. That was goodbye. The end was here. It was time to find out if the plan would work.

* * *

_I hope you enjoyed it and you didn't give up on it for being so long/tedious! I haven't been good about replying to reviews before now, so I'm going to make it my mission to reply to all the reviews I get on this chapter (yay), which basically it means you should shower me in reviews! :)_

_The next chapter will be the reunion and Matthew faking his death, so get excited!_


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